The Count's Prize. Christina HollisЧитать онлайн книгу.
the man sounded a real drone. He partied every night and loafed around his estates during the day while everyone else did the actual work. It was no wonder he knew all about bees.
‘Stroll beneath these trees when the sun is high above the old campanile, Dr Street, and you’ll hear them purring like a Rolls-Royce engine.’
Josie sighed. ‘It sounds lovely.’
‘You should make the most of this place while you have it all to yourself,’ the driver said. ‘It was another late one last night, so everyone is still asleep. We’ve already been told the current crop of house guests won’t be taking lunch today. Signora Costa, the housekeeper, will be making arrangements for you to eat alone, Dr Street.’
Josie shut her eyes in relief and thanked her lucky stars. The castello might be a new experience for her, but she had holidayed at Antonia’s apartment in Rome and the di Sirena family villa in Rimini several times. In both places, her best friend’s neighbours were all seriously grand. They were lovely people, but that didn’t stop Josie feeling as out of place as a sardine in a tank full of angel-fish. She always enjoyed playing with little Fabio while his mother, Antonia, went shopping; it was the evenings spent listening to people she didn’t know talking about spending three months skiing and visiting places she had only seen in colour supplements that Josie found hard work. Making small talk was her idea of hell. She was taking it for granted that Antonia’s older brother would be nocturnal because of his notoriously wild social life. That suited her. It meant she would be free to work in and around the ancient splendour of the Castello Sirena all day and be fast asleep before he surfaced, ready for another night on the tiles. With the limited amount of time available to her, she didn’t think she could afford to waste a single day.
At the thought of what Count Dario would be doing in the evenings, it was impossible not to feel a twinge of envy. She looked around at the sun-drenched acres of the Castello Sirena. Although she loved her work, Josie sometimes felt like a hamster on a wheel. She had to keep forging ahead just to pay her bills, while people like Count Dario had everything handed to them on solid silver ancestral platters.
When she’d first started sharing rooms with Antonia at university, she’d wondered if their wildly differing backgrounds would poison their friendship. Instead, it was a source of endless amusement. And when either of them hit rough times, the other was there with support.
Loyalty was important to Josie. She’d thought she had found it in her ex-fiancé, but she had been proved as wrong about him as Antonia had been about her own partner, Rick. When Antonia got pregnant, Rick had abandoned the poor girl instantly. Josie helped her best friend to pick up the pieces, but secretly she thought Antonia was better off without the guy.
After her own experiences, Josie was developing a very jaundiced outlook when it came to men. When her friend decided that she wanted to stay at home with her baby, rather than getting back to her studies, it was a blow to Josie. Her work just wasn’t the same without her friend. That was why she was so looking forward to this project. It gave her a great chance to work, with the prospect of catching up with Antonia and little Fabio when they got home from Rimini.
Josie had to admit that a bit of her envied her friend’s freedom to choose …
‘Right, here we are.’
The chauffeur broke into her thoughts as he pulled up at the great front entrance to the castello. Josie got out of the car, pulling her skirt straight. As she looked up at the rambling old building she fiddled with some unruly strands of brown hair that had escaped from her ponytail. Imagine living in a place like this. The high stone walls and towering fairy-tale turrets were so beautiful. She wondered how many warriors had cantered up to this awe-inspiring entrance over the centuries. Its great oak door was studded with huge iron nails and bleached by hundreds of bright summer days like this one. In the centre, the figure of an iron mermaid, copied from the di Sirena family’s crest, looked down on her with scorn.
Behind her, the chauffeur drove off to deliver her luggage to the back of the house. Conscious of being the latest in an endless line of visitors over the years, Josie advanced, caught hold of the great iron bell pull on one side of the door and got ready to pin on her best public smile.
Count Dario di Sirena was bored. As usual, he had entertained his guests lavishly the night before, but that meant there was no one up and about to entertain him yet. The yachting club members had been busy into the early hours, sampling the wide range of wines in the castello’s cellars. Alcohol had no particular attraction for Dario any more, so he was letting his guests sleep it off this morning while he made his usual early start. That was fine for them, but it left him short of a tennis partner. Hitting balls pitched at him by a machine was no substitute for a proper match. Not that many visitors to the castle ever seemed keen on sport, although they never refused his hospitality. His guests’ interest in him only as a name to drop was beginning to irritate Dario.
Just for once I’d like to find someone willing to forget my rank and give me a good hard game, he thought, scything the heads off a dozen innocent moon daisies with the head of his racket. He opened a green swathe through the sea of calm white flowers. Seeing it, he took another pass, sending florets spinning through the sunshine. As he was idly wondering if it might be satisfying to try scything the whole meadow like that, he heard one of his cars.
Shading his eyes against the relentless sunlight, he watched it stop briefly outside the house while a girl got out. Dario quickly tried to remember who this new visitor could be. Surely it wasn’t Antonia’s friend? She wasn’t supposed to be arriving until the twelfth. He checked the date on his watch, and grimaced. Today was the twelfth. He sighed. Since he’d inherited his title, he found time passed so quickly that all the days merged into one another. Time slipped away like water through his hands, and what did he have to show for it? A golf handicap that was fast approaching zero, and enough frequent flyer miles to circumnavigate the solar system.
Anything Dario wanted, he could have.
Except a good reason for getting up early, he thought.
Shouldering his racket, he strode over to introduce himself to the new visitor with a smile.
Antonia had told him that her best friend was here to work and was not to be … distracted. The way his sister described Dr Josie Street, Dario half expected to be playing host to an eccentric nun. The woman he now saw trying to raise the alarm outside his house was far more appealing than that.
Although … he considered, looking her over with a practised eye, she’s doing her best to hide it. Josie’s tightly drawn-back hair, concentrated frown and shapeless clothes all indicated a woman fighting her natural good looks as hard as she could. She certainly fitted his image of an English academic. Hmm … maybe someone should tell her that there’s more to life than study, he thought in passing as he drew closer to her.
Years spent toiling on archaeological digs as a student meant Josie was no weakling, but the bell pull defeated her. She tried knocking on the door, but its six inches of solid oak deadened all sound. The chauffeur was bound to have warned the other staff that she was on her way, but Josie suspected it would be some time before they came to check. When one final haul couldn’t dislodge the bell pull she stood back, brushing flakes of rust from her hands in disgust.
‘Buon giorno.’
She jumped at the intrusion, and swung around. A man was walking towards her out of the sun, and the mere sight of him made her stand and stare. Towering head and shoulders over her, he was all toned limbs and easy grace. His unruly black hair and flashing eyes were teamed with a golden tan and immaculate tennis whites. It was a breathtaking combination, and she suspected he knew that only too well. In contrast to Josie’s dusty travelling clothes, everything he wore seemed brand new. The state-of-the art tennis racket he bounced against the palm of his left hand as he drew closer didn’t look as if it had ever been used in anger. It even had daisies woven into its strings.
I wonder if they were threaded there by some girl? Josie thought, glancing around to see if this vision was making his way over to someone glamorous who